<Chapter 35>

"So that’s what happened," Viretta said, accepting the reality without protest.

Although it might sound arrogant, none of Iola’s words were an exaggeration. She, too, had suspected him for the very reasons he just described.

This was not a love marriage but a strategic one.

In a love marriage, someone might overlook differences in status because of their affection for the other. However, in a strategic marriage, such a significant disparity was almost unheard of.

Strategic marriages required balance—whether in family background, appearance, abilities, or character. Each party was measured and weighed to ensure the match was mutually beneficial.

Iola, however, was simply too exceptional.

He was overqualified to be the arranged fiancé of Viretta, the second daughter of the Medleridge family, who was seen as little more than an unwanted burden within her household.

He was a magician, a skilled warrior, and a student at the prestigious Royal Academy of Natural Sciences, renowned for producing brilliant minds.

Because of this, Viretta had assumed there must be some glaring flaw in him.

For someone with such a prestigious background and abilities to be her fiancé, he would have to be hideously ugly, harbor bizarre tastes, or be significantly older, perhaps even with children from a previous marriage.

But Iola’s character and appearance were impeccable.

Though occasionally naive and prone to moments of impetuousness, these were hardly deal-breaking flaws.

This left only one possibility—that there was a deeper issue elsewhere.

“Iola, are you preparing a thesis on dragons as part of your studies? Is your major zoology?”

“Yes, along with accounting, mathematics, economics, law, physics, and botany. I’m pursuing multiple majors.”

Every time he opened his mouth, he revealed yet another talent. Truly, he was an extraordinarily capable man.

What could he have done to end up in an arranged marriage with someone from a foreign country?

A mix of unease and curiosity churned within Viretta as she waited for Iola to continue.

“When I decided to pursue academics, my family opposed it strongly, but the nobles of Saha did not. The tradition of boys becoming mercenaries is a Najin custom, not a Saha one.”

“I see.”

“They were eagerly awaiting my return after I completed my degrees. But then…”

He trailed off, his expression darkening.

Noticing the crack in his usual calm demeanor, Viretta tilted her head. Then, with a soft smile, she reached out and gently stroked his face. Starting at his forehead, her hand moved down to his chin, her touch soothing.

Iola exhaled a breath he’d been holding.

“…But then I was no longer able to return to Saha. I was exiled from my homeland.”

“Who did you kill?”

Her eyes widened as she asked the question, her tone utterly serious.

Iola, mistaking her for joking, gave a faint smile. Despite her genuine inquiry, Viretta found satisfaction in having brought a smile back to his face, so she let the question drop.

“At the time, I wasn’t the only student from Saha studying abroad in Fillian. Among us was someone from a particularly distinguished family.”

His olive-colored eyes shimmered in the light, a sight Viretta found strikingly elegant.

“‘Seo’ is a family that wields immense political power in Saha. Minel, the sole heir of the Seo family, was among those studying abroad with me.”

“That’s incredible! Were you close?”

“Yes. We stayed in the same boarding house and became friends. But Minel was quite a troublesome companion, constantly playing pranks on me.”

“Pranks?”

“Minel had a talent for mischief. They once claimed to be dying of stomach pain, only to set off fireworks as I came to check on them. Another time, they told me that in Fillian, one must kneel before a friend to show respect.”

Viretta could vividly imagine Iola being tricked. Hearing someone was ill, he’d undoubtedly rush to their side, or kneel sincerely if told it was customary. It was almost comical.

“What a troublesome friend. But I can see why they might succeed—you're very trusting of others.”

“As you know, I’m naturally inclined to believe what people say. It’s part of my nature, but also a principle I’ve chosen to live by. After all, objective truths can often be distorted by personal perspective.”

As he spoke, Iola gently cupped Viretta’s cheek, gazing into her lilac-colored eyes.

“To me, your eyes appear to be a violet hue, like violets in bloom. But to someone else, they might seem plum-colored. Neither is a lie; it’s just that their truth differs from mine.”

“Does that really happen?”

“It happens quite often. That’s why, in the world of academia, one must avoid hastily labeling something a lie.”

For example, colorblindness.

Or mental conditions that alter perception.

Perhaps even a homeland where plums truly did shine with a violet hue.

In the realm of science and study, anything that occurs is accepted as truth.

This was why Iola had developed the habit of believing others at face value. Regardless of objective facts, to him, their words might hold a different kind of truth.

“Because of this habit of trusting others, I was frequently duped by that friend. It led to many embarrassing situations.”

“I can imagine it clearly.”

As Viretta chuckled softly, Iola joined her, his smile warm and genuine. Her willingness to listen so attentively brought him a rare sense of comfort.

“Eventually, after enduring countless pranks, I resolved never to believe anything Minel said again.”

“Iola, making such a resolution! Were you able to stick to it?”

Even though she already guessed the outcome, Viretta feigned enthusiasm, one of her endearing qualities.

“That very evening, Minel screamed from the first floor, yelling up to me on the second.”

Iola’s gaze lowered as he recalled that fateful night.

“‘A stranger’s here with a knife! Iola! He’s armed—please come down! I don’t know what he’ll do! Help me!’ They screamed at the top of their lungs.”

His voice trembled as he imitated the desperate cries.

The memory, even softened by time, clearly still haunted him.

“I didn’t go. I’d already fallen for that trick five times. I wasn’t about to fall for it a sixth.”

“Of course.”

“Soon, Minel’s shouts turned into frantic screams to run, accompanied by the sound of clashing blades. I thought, ‘How elaborate.’ Even the fading noise was well-rehearsed.”

“Oh my…”

“When the door slammed shut with a loud bang, I finally decided to go down and tell them to be quieter. But…”

He paused, swallowing hard as if forcing the words out.

When he finally spoke again, his voice had grown soft, the weight of the memory slowing him down.

“…But Minel was there, bleeding out from a knife wound.”

Viretta gasped silently, her lips trembling.

“It was real?”

“It was real. Of all days, that day had to be real.”

Iola’s hands twitched as though cradling a memory, his arms folding as if holding Minel in their final moments.

“I tried to save them, but it was too late. Minel… died in my arms. Why, of all days, did it have to be then?”

On that single day, the only day Iola ever resolved not to believe someone, he gained a wound that would scar him for life.

“Why? I always trusted others. I’ve never not trusted someone before. Even those surrendering with malice in their hearts, I trusted. But on that one day, that one moment I chose not to believe… I lost my friend.”

Iola had always been the type to believe.

He trusted even surrendering enemies who clearly intended to stab him in the back. He took even obvious lies at face value, granting them respect.

If someone said they were in pain, he would worry. If someone asked for help, he would go.

But that single day, that brief moment of doubt, cost him someone who cared about him—a friend who had risked everything to protect him.

“What must it have felt like to cry for help, only for it to be dismissed as a prank? To scream until your voice broke, knowing your friend upstairs wasn’t coming to save you?”

What pained Iola the most was that Minel hadn’t fled. They hadn’t been ambushed. Instead, they’d stayed, fighting and shouting, making as much noise as possible to ensure Iola’s safety before succumbing to their wounds.

Despite their history of pranks, Minel had cared for Iola to the very end.

“I only chose not to believe once. But in that one moment, something irreversible happened. It felt like punishment…”

Iola’s voice trailed off, his gaze falling. Though he had witnessed countless deaths, none had cut deeper than the one he might have prevented.

If only he had gone downstairs sooner, the clumsy assailant could have been stopped.

“Since that day, I resolved to always believe others. It’s better to be betrayed after trusting than to regret not believing when it mattered.”

Lifting his head, Iola’s eyes shimmered with a newfound determination, a fire of life rekindled within him.

“That’s why I trust you, and everyone else, without exception.”